17. Casandra
Blackmere Academy likes to boast about its “Integrated Excellence” program, but the reality of our curriculum is a bit more fractured.
We have species-specific lectures and then some classes, like today’s Combat, where they throw us all into the cage together. It’s supposed to teach us “collaborative defense.” In reality, it’s usually just an excuse for everyone to show off their fangs and fur.
I adjust my smart watch nervously. Beside me, Ilinca is checking her hand wraps, her movements jerky. Since Magnus officially entered her life, she’s been a vibrating wire of nervous energy.
He’s already there, and the moment his eyes find Ilinca, his entire posture changes. He’s taller, broader, his chest puffing out as he waves us over. He’s standing with the rest of the Junior Council.
And in the center of them, looking like a statue carved from storm clouds and spite, is Nikolai.
As we approach, I feel the invisible thread in my chest snap taut again. My heart does a traitorous little skip, and I hate it. I hate the biology of it.
I used to romanticize the hell out of this.
Back in Romania, when I was just learning about vampires and werewolves, I thought the idea of a mate bond was the height of cosmic romance.
I used to think it was almost unfair that vampires didn’t get that—that we were stuck with blood-bonds and political matches while the wolves got a soulmate hand-picked by the Moon Goddess.
I wanted that soul-deep connection. I wanted to be someone’s everything.
Now, as Nikolai’s gaze rakes over me with a mixture of longing and fury, I realize the Moon Goddess is just a bored sadist. This isn’t a fairy tale; it’s a tether to a man who thinks I’m a monster.
“Morning, ladies,” Lukas purrs, stepping out from behind Nikolai. He looks effortless in his gear, his Swedish lilt as smooth as ever. “Ready to see if your style is all talk, or if there’s some bite behind the beauty?”
“I guess you’ll find out,” I retort, refusing to look at Nikolai even though I can feel his stare burning a hole through my chest.
“Alright, settle down!” Coach Garrow, a grizzled Alpha who looks like he’s survived a few too many wars, claps his hands together. “We’re doing close-quarters grappling and redirection today. No staying in your comfort zones. Ilinca, you’re with Magnus. Nikolai, you’re with Aiden.”
Nikolai’s jaw clenches so hard I hear the bone pop. I can feel the growl vibrating in his chest from six feet away.
“Lukas,” Garrow calls. “You’re with Casandra.”
Lukas’s smirk widens into something truly predatory.
We move to a corner mat, away from the main group but still well within eyeshot of Nikolai and Aiden. Lukas circles me, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.
I might be new to being a vampire, but the year I spent in Transylvania wasn’t just for history lessons. My father’s elite guard spent six hours a day breaking me and putting me back together. I move with a speed that is still blurringly new to me.
We spar for several minutes, the thud of our bodies hitting the mats echoing through the gym. Lukas is good—dangerously good. He’s fast even for a wolf, his movements calculated and fluid.
“Your center of gravity is too high, Cass,” Lukas murmurs, stepping into my guard.
He reaches out, his hands catching my waist to correct my stance. It’s a move that is entirely unnecessary, and we both know it.
“I’ve got it, Lukas,” I say, trying to twist away.
“Do you? Because you look a little... unbalanced.”
Suddenly, his foot hooks behind mine. It’s a deliberate trip, executed with the precision of a professional. As I go down, he doesn’t let go; instead, he pulls me with him, ensuring that when we hit the mat, I land on top of him.
I’m straddling him, my hands braced against his chest, our faces inches apart. Lukas doesn’t move to get up. He just lies there, looking up at me with an expression of bold flirtation.
“See?” he whispers, his breath warm against my lips. “Much better. You just needed to be closer to the ground.”
“You’re an ass,” I breathe, though I don’t move. There’s a thrill in the challenge of his gaze, a lightness that is the polar opposite of the heavy, suffocating darkness Nikolai radiates.
A sound like a thunderclap rips through the gym.
I scramble off Lukas, my head snapping toward Nikolai.
He has Aiden pinned against the wall, his hand around the American wolf’s throat, but his eyes aren’t on his sparring partner.
They are fixed on me, the gold in them so bright they look like twin suns.
The mat beneath his feet is literally cracked.
“Nikolai! Let him go!” Garrow yells, stepping toward the Prince.
Nikolai drops Aiden like he’s trash, his nostrils flaring as he takes in the sight of me and Lukas. The air in the gym turns cold, the scent of bitter cinnamon exploding from the Prince’s pores. He looks like he’s one second away from shifting and tearing the roof off the building.
Lukas stands up slowly, brushing the dust off his pants with an infuriatingly calm smile. He winks at me before turning back to the mat.
“Class dismissed!” Garrow bellows, sensing that the “Integrated Excellence” is about to turn into a triple homicide. “Everyone out! Now!”
I don’t wait. I grab my water bottle and head toward the sidelines, my heart hammering. I can feel Nikolai’s gaze on my back, a physical weight that makes my skin prickle.
I’m standing by the hydration station, taking a long, cold pull from my bottle, when a shadow falls over me.
Lukas leans against the wall beside me, looking like he hasn’t just narrowly avoided being mauled by his future King. “He really has no chill, does he?”
“You’re going to get yourself killed, Lukas,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I’m a future Alpha,” Lukas says smugly. “I don’t frighten easily. Besides, a girl like you is worth a bit of a risk.”
He steps closer, his voice dropping into a tone that is surprisingly sincere. “Listen, come to my place tonight. West Wing, third floor, suite 2B. I’ll cook for you. No council talk, no prince-related drama. Just a proper dinner.”
I pause, the water bottle halfway to my bag. “A date? Are you serious?”
“I told you, I like a challenge,” he says, his smirk returning. “And I’m a fantastic cook.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Lukas.”
“It’s a great idea,” he counters, stepping into my personal space one last time. “Eight o’clock, Casandra. Don’t make me eat alone. It’s bad for my ego.”
He doesn’t wait for a rejection. He just flashes me that effortless smile and walks away, whistling a tune I recognize from the radio in Sweden.
I stand there for a moment, stunned by his persistence.
“You shouldn’t go.”
I turn to find Aiden standing a few feet away. He’s rubbing his throat where Nikolai’s hand had been, his expression grim.
“And why is that, Aiden?” I ask, rolling my eyes as I shoulder my bag. “Because the Prince will be upset?”
Aiden shakes his head slowly. “Not because of the Prince, no. Because of Lukas. He’s my friend, but he’s like the winter sun. He’s bright and he’s beautiful, but he doesn’t actually provide any warmth. He just likes to see what he can make melt.”
I stare at him for a beat, the warning landing heavier than I expected. But then I think of Nikolai’s arrogance.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not made of ice,” I say, turning on my heel. “I think I’ll be just fine.”